Flash of Lights
by silverphoenix00
Summary: Phichit Chulanont very much considered himself a social media savant. He was well practiced in the ways of the tweet, a master in the staging of an Instagram picture, and a quick draw in the art of the snapchat filter. For him, it was a necessity, like breathing air or drinking water, especially for someone in his profession.


Phichit Chulanont very much considered himself a social media savant. He was well practiced in the ways of the tweet, a master in the staging of an Instagram picture, and a quick draw in the art of the snapchat filter. For him, it was a necessity, like breathing air or drinking water, especially for someone in his profession. So, there was a small part of him, tiny as it might be, that wondered how in the world his best friend, roommate, and fellow model, Yuuri Katsuki, had survived in the fashion industry.

From the moment he had met the Japanese model, Phichit felt his mother hen instinct kick in. The sweet, oblivious child, whose social media accounts looked like the online version of the Sahara Desert, needed to be protected from the world and Phichit would probably kill a man to do just that. He had waded through the depths of Tumblr. He knew how.

The two models had come to do everything together - played the same video games, binged the same Netflix shows, accepted the same gigs. It was only natural that when one got asked to pose in a photoshoot for one of the biggest fashion moguls in the world, the other got the same offer. Of course, Phichit had spent the entire night before the shoot trying to convince Yuuri that he wasn't going to crash and burn in front of the makeup artist, and long-time crush, Viktor Nikiforov.

It probably didn't help poor Yuuri's frayed nerves when he had 'accidentally' gotten his makeup done first and then 'accidently' left Yuuri in Viktor's very capable hands like the good friend he was. Phichit may have considered himself a mother hen, but he also wanted what was best for his friend - which in this case just happened to be in the form of a silver haired Russian. The only thing he asked was that they used protection.

While Yuuri was getting his makeup done, and hopefully getting chatted up, Phichit bided his time on set by observing Viktor's handiwork. He had to admit that Viktor had talent, because he looked amazing. The colors that painted his face were subtle, yet striking, in the low lighting. Red glitter shimmered faintly on his eyelids, stunning against the soft brown of his eyes, while gold glitter did the same along the contours of his cheekbones and jawline. His black hair, which normally hung down into his eyes, was slicked back with traces of the same glitter and deep, red-brown lipstick filled his lips, ready to define the cunning smirk or wide smile of nearly any emotion he could think of.

He must've admired Viktor's work longer than he thought, because soon enough someone behind him cleared their throat.

Christophe Giacometti, the photographer on the shoot, was honestly one of the most beautiful people he'd seen in his long career of being surrounded by beautiful people. The first thing Phichit noticed was that the color of his eyes, which were framed by circular glasses and the longest lashes Phichit had ever seen, looked almost yellow in the light.

A large camera hung around Christophe's neck and was cradled gently in his hands, taking attention away from his rather casual clothing, which Phichit knew was perfect for bending and twisting around to capture the right shot - amongst other things.

"Christophe Giacometti," the man said, reaching a hand out for Phichit to shake. "I'll be your photographer for today."

"Phichit Chulanont," the model managed to choke out, cursing the slight breathlessness of his voice while reaching out to take Christophe's hand. Yuuri's behavior towards Viktor suddenly made a lot more sense. "I'll be your model. Well, one of them at least."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Phichit," Christophe responded, quickly taking Phichit's hand in his own and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Phichit couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Because if Christophe was anything, it was charming. "I know that Yuuri is still in makeup, but I figured we could get the separate shots done while we waited. So, if you want, I can do you now."

Phichit raised an eyebrow, wondering if the man had purposely phrased the request that way or if his internet addled mind had immediately jumped into the gutter. It only took a glance at Christophe's expression to know the answer.

"Oh? Will we be taking pictures afterwards or…?"

His response earned a chuckle from the photographer, which Phichit mentally patted himself on the back for, and a rather sultry look. Phichit felt like a dam had broken, which didn't bother him since he felt ready for the flood.

"Viktor might have my head for ruining his makeup," he hummed back, a rather sly smirk curling on his face, "but perhaps we could take pictures during."

"Only if you buy me dinner first."

"Deal."


End file.
